A Passion Most Pure (56 page)

Faith's head jerked up. Her eyes blinked wide. "I ... I think he's gone," she stammered.

"She's right," Marcy chimed in. "Collin said he was leaving for New York this morning."

"New York!" Patrick cried. "What's in New York, for pity's sake?"

"A friend he wants to start a business with," Marcy said.

Patrick squinted, ridging his brow. "What about Charity?"

Marcy sighed. "Collin feels the war may have changed him too much to suit her-"

"Changed? What the devil is he talking about? The war's changed us all, but it doesn't change who you love."

Mitch shifted in his chair and cleared his throat, gulping the rest of his coffee. Faith fixated on a blob of uneaten egg salad on her plate while absently pushing it with her fork. She sighed and picked up her cup.

Marcy patted Patrick's hand. "It seems Collin has had an encounter with God, Patrick, and it's changed him. We talked for hours, and I didn't know this, but apparently before the war his belief in God was pretty minimal. I think we would have been alarmed had we known how much. But this friend of his, Brady-the one he hopes to go into business with-opened his eyes to the reality of God, and honestly, Patrick, he's like a different man. He reminds me of you, my love. But I am concerned he's not the man Charity fell in love with, and equally concerned she's not the woman he's looking to love."

Patrick's gaze flitted to Faith, and comprehension suddenly flooded his brain. So this was the reason her engagement to Mitch was off. He looked at his daughter, who sipped her coffee with an air of dejection, and then at Mitch, whose fingers idly twiddled the empty cup in his hands. Patrick sighed. He certainly would be glad when his daughters were all safely married. Their love lives took more shots at his emotional well-being than the Germans. Patrick was ready for a truce.

He turned his attention to Mitch. "I want to thank you for bringing Marcy home. I fully intend to reimburse you for the fare." Patrick's hold on Marcy tightened. "But obviously, she won't be going back."

Mitch nodded, a faint smile on his lips. "I figured as much, Mr. O'Connor. And no reimbursement is necessary. Your family has given me a lot of joy." He turned to Faith and reached to take her hand in his. "I need to be going," he whispered. "It's almost four o'clock, and my cab will be here in a few moments."

A faint gasp parted from his daughter's lips, and Patrick winced when a fresh wave of tears welled in her eyes.

Mitch smiled down at her. "Don't. You're going to get dehydrated." She jumped up to loop her arms around his neck. He closed his eyes, aware of a sick feeling in his gut.

"Mitch, I'm so sorry."

"Me too." He stroked her chin with his finger. Turning to Marcy, he held out his hand.

She stood and pushed it aside. "How dare you insult me with a handshake, Mitch Dennehy!" She threw her arms around him. "You're family."

"Thanks, Mrs. O'Connor. You have no idea how I wish I were." He extended his hand to Patrick. "A handshake okay with you, Mr. O'Connor?"

Patrick grinned and pumped his hand. "They're a weepy lot, aren't they, Mitch?"

Mitch laughed. "I'd say you have more waterworks on your hands than the city water supply. Do they ever stop crying?"

Patrick shook his head. "Not even when they're happy."

Mitch reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief. "Here, you need this more than I do," he said to Faith.

A horn sounded, and Mitch sighed. "Ireland calls." He turned to go.

"Mitch!" Faith ran to embrace him.

"You remember what I said," he whispered. "Ireland's there for you, if you ever need it."

She nodded and clenched his handkerchief to her mouth to stifle a sob.

Mitch didn't trust himself to look back as he walked to the door and pushed it open, but when he was on the other side, the breath left his lungs with a sharp pain.

He hated Collin McGuire, almost as much as he loved Faith, and he wondered if God could possibly honor a prayer for their relationship to fail. Probably not, he mused to himself. Although he was known for bucking most authority, Mitch knew in his gut this was one time, like it or not, he would have to submit. Like Faith had often said-it had to be God's way, not his. And Mitch had a sinking feeling when it came to Faith O'Connor, he didn't have a prayer.

Faith stood there sobbing, and her father pulled her into his arms while her mother hovered. "I'm so sorry, Faith," she whispered, stroking her daughter's hair. "I had no idea you and Mitch had called off your engagement. But things will work out, you'll see."

Faith wiped her eyes with Mitch's handkerchief. "I know, Mother. It's just so hard. Mitch is a wonderful man. It's difficult to let him go."

Patrick sat down and pulled Faith onto his lap like he'd done hundreds of times when she was a child, his arms wound around her as she rested her head against his chest.

Her mother sank into the chair beside them. "Why did you?" she asked.

Faith sniffed. "I couldn't bear the thought of leaving you and Father. With Father gone, it was easy to think about living in Ireland with all of us there. But now, I don't think I could stand to be there without you."

Patrick rubbed Faith's arms and glanced up at his wife. "It wouldn't have anything to do with Collin McGuire, would it?"

Faith stiffened.

Her mother blinked in surprise. "Why do you say that, Patrick?"

Patrick lifted Faith's head off his chest and held her chin with his hand. "Because you know, Marcy, she's always been in love with him. The only thing that ever really stopped her before was the fact Collin didn't believe in God."

Faith sat up abruptly, her eyes wide. "How did you know that?"

Patrick smiled. "He told me. Right after he told me he loved you."

Faith froze and Marcy gasped. "What? When did he tell you that?" Marcy demanded.

Patrick's look was tender. "A few weeks before he left. I wanted to tell you, Marcy, but if you'll remember, you were a bit emotional, and I didn't want to add to it."

She nodded slowly, then touched Faith's arm. "Do you love Collin?"

Faith looked at her without answering.

"Faith! Do you love him?"

She took a deep breath. "Yes, Mother, I do. I've always loved him. I guess I've never stopped, even with Mitch, and Mitch knew it. That's why he broke the engagement."

"Well, then, if you love him, and he loves you-call him!"

"But I'm not really sure he still loves me," she said, her voice wavering, "although he did kiss me when Mitch took Mrs. Gerson home last night. But even so, I'm not sure ..."

"Yes, you are," Patrick said firmly, "or you would have never let Mitch walk out that door. Call him!"

"Well, he never said it directly ..."

Patrick pushed her off his lap. "Call him-now!"

Faith chewed her lip. "He's gone, I just know it." Her hand shook as she cranked the phone. Patrick and Marcy watched as she clutched the receiver. She spoke briefly to the operator, then fell silent, continuing to work her lip as she waited. "Yes, hello ... Mrs. McGuire? This is Faith O'Connor. Yes ..." She paused for a moment, then laughed. "Yes, he did. It was wonderful seeing him again. And I understand congratulations are in order? Collin tells us you're to be married."

Her mother and father exchanged looks as Faith paused again, a tight smile on her face. "Yes, well, that's why I'm calling, as a matter of fact. You see, the most amazing thing has happened-my father is alive, and he's home, and I wanted to surprise Collin."

Patrick pulled Marcy on his lap while Faith nodded silently, the smile fading from her lips. "Yes, of course, please tell him when you hear from him. And good luck to you, Mrs. McGuire." She replaced the receiver slowly and turned to her parents, tears brimming.

Her father eyed her sternly. "Don't start with that again, young lady; I can't take much more of your heartbreak. Just come over here and tell us what she said."

Sniffing back the tears, Faith sat and took a deep breath.

"He's gone; he left this morning. She doesn't know where to reach him, but he promised to call when he was settled in New York." She looked up at her parents. "It could be weeks before we hear from him," she whispered.

Marcy stood and wrapped her arms around Faith's neck. "He'll call," she insisted, then kissed her daughter's head. "You've waited this long; you can wait a few weeks more. Besides, at the moment, that's not our biggest problem."

Marcy raised a brow at Patrick, and he moaned, slapping a hand to his forehead. "I completely forgot about Charity."

"Oh no ... so did I!" Faith groaned.

"I suppose we all have," her mother murmured, slumping into the chair.

"Sweet heaven above, why do you girls have to be so blasted complicated?" Patrick said.

"It's going to work out, Patrick," Marcy insisted, a note of confidence in her voice. "I don't know how or when, but God will work it out; I'm sure of it."

"Not without heartbreak, I'm afraid," Patrick replied.

Marcy looked at her husband pointedly. "Well, at least heartbreak doesn't kill you. I should be proof of that after what you've put me through the last few months."

Patrick grinned. "I plan to make it all up to you."

"I plan to let you," she countered, then reached for her daughter's hand. "We need to pray about this, I think. And while we're at it, I think Mitch could use a few prayers, as well. I really hate to lose that boy. He would have been such an asset to the family."

"If Charity has her way, he still might be," Faith muttered.

Patrick looked confused. "What?"

Faith and Marcy glanced at each other. "It's a long story, Patrick," Marcy said. "Are you sure you're up to it?"

Patrick joined hands with his wife and daughter. "I've got nothing but time, my love," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "Although I'm not sure that even the shock of war has prepared me to hear it." And bowing his head, he led his family in prayer.

It was almost the perfect Thanksgiving, Faith thought, looking around the room filled with most of the people she loved. The war was over, and Sean had traveled from France to Ireland to bring Beth, Steven, Katie, and Blarney home. They just arrived the day before, sending the previously quiet O'Connor household into the blessed state of pre-war pandemonium.

Patrick was upset because Charity opted to stay with her grandmother for a while, but both Marcy and Faith were grateful. Marcy, because at least Bridget and Mima wouldn't lose their loved ones all at once, and because Charity would be there if anything happened to Mima.

Unfortunately, Faith's reasons were not as noble. She didn't look forward to confronting her sister again if Collin decided he loved her rather than Charity. But then, for all Faith knew, Collin could have written her sister and the two of them could be finalizing plans for their future even now.

Faith found herself pushing thoughts of Collin with Charity from her mind, as she often had to do since he'd left. He hadn't contacted his mother within the three weeks following Faith's call, but then Mrs. McGuire hadn't really expected him to, she said. She had given him a number where she could be reached over Thanksgiving, seeming to think she would hear from him then. And she took great pains to assure Faith that, when he did call, she would be sure to give him the good news about her father.

He was probably speaking to his mother right now from New York, she thought with a surge of hope, perhaps even calling yet this evening to talk to Patrick. Faith released a quiet sigh and looked around the table. Her father carved the turkey while Sean entertained them with stories of his adventures overseas. All the while, Katie did her best to swipe a few pieces of turkey when her father wasn't looking, giggling and slipping them under the table to Blarney. Faith couldn't help but smile at the sight of Blarney's tail, only partially visible as it swished back and forth, bunching Marcy's tablecloth and swatting at Beth.

Beth didn't seem to notice. She sat, gaze fixed on her father and brother, mesmerized by their tales of France, obviously breathless at the idea of such a romantic place. Steven, too, seemed enthralled with their stories, more for the war than the romance, and the looks he gave his father and brother were almost worshipful. Mrs. Gerson and her father chatted while her mother and she carted heaping bowls to the dining room table, which once again shimmered with candlelight and china.

When Patrick finished carving, he laid the knife aside and bowed his head. The others followed suit. "Heavenly Father, where would we be without you?" he whispered, a slight tremor in his voice. "You said you would never leave us nor forsake us, and you are faithful. We bow before you with such profound gratitude for your continued blessings. Please shine your light and your blessing upon our loved ones in Ireland-and in New York-and bless this bounty before us, and the hands that prepared it. Amen."

Faith felt warm as she sipped the wine her mother had poured and smiled as her father pulled the wishbone with Katie. She had wishes of her own tonight, she reflected, and wondered what Collin was doing. Did he even think about her anymore, or had he quickly pushed her from his thoughts, as she seemed to do with thoughts of him with Charity?

As evening wore on, Faith felt a heaviness settling, or maybe she was just tired. She looked at the clock, and her heart sank-nine o'clock-probably too late for him to call. Faith sighed. She would have to wait another day, if not longer. The thought depleted her.

"You look tired, Faith," her mother remarked with a knowing look. "Why don't you go on up to bed? Beth and Sean can help with what dishes are left."

"No, I'll help, Mother."

Marcy shook her head. "You've been helping all day. I could have never finished without you. I want you to go to bed and get some rest. Who knows what tomorrow will bring?"

"All right, Mother." Faith stood and bent to give her father a hug. "Good night, Daddy."

"I love my girl," he whispered back.

Circling the table, Faith hugged everyone, ending with Mrs. Gerson.

The old woman squeezed her hand. "Tell me, Faith, do you delight yourself in the Lord?"